It Ends When
by RainbowBetty
Summary: A series of Hallucifer drabbles (now complete!) on the many ways Luci tortures Sam with this: "End it? This? The paint slowly peeling off your walls, come on, man why would I end it? It ends when you can't take it anymore." PLEASE BEWARE: Triggers for anxiety, mental illness, depression, suicide, non-con/assault.
1. Chapter 1

The paint on the walls of this set dressing is peeling away.

Tears are running down Sam's face. _Not really, this face isn't real._

Lucifer _(not really)_ sits across from him at Bobby's kitchen table _(not really), _with a sad but amused smirk on his face. He pushes the pistol cross the table toward Sam.

"Are we there yet, Sammy?" he asks. "You know where to aim?"

Hand trembling, Sam reaches out and accepts the cup of coffee his brother offers, not seeing the depth of pain and worry in Dean's eyes.

"Sammy?" Dean tries again.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean is already dead when Sam finds him, his body broken and twisted at the bottom of the stairs.

"No! Dean!" Sam falls to his knees, feeling uselessly for a pulse. "Dean, you can't. You can't do this."

Hands fisting into Dean's shirt, he chokes on a sob.

Beneath Sam's hands, Lucifer shrugs a shoulder back into joint, then reaches up and rights his head with a sickening crack. Sam recoils, then jerks to his feet as he hears a crash outside followed by Dean screaming.

"Ooh, you might wanna check on him," Lucifer says gleefully. "That one sounded _real_."


	3. Chapter 3

"Sam. You have to eat," Dean says quietly.

He used to sound pissed off, but it's been days.

"He's right, Sammy," Lucifer adds, bumping Sam's shoulder as he dips a finger into the bowl of soup. "We have to keep our strength up!"

Sam turns his head away, his stomach rebelling at the idea. "Don't call me Sammy," he mutters.

Dean frowns, confused. Then he tiredly passes a hand over his face. "Well, I'm not gonna let you starve to death. Even if I have to hold you down and force feed you."

Lucifer elbows him, grinning. "Remember that one?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Whatcha reading, bunk buddy?" Lucifer peers over Sam's shoulder.

Sam stiffens, but keeps his eyes fixed on the page in front of him.

The words on the page start to blur, then swim together, then refocus. "You never left," every sentence says.

Sam slams the book shut and drops it to the floor.

He tries to breathe normally, looks up at Dean who is waiting for an explanation. "There was a-a spider," he says lamely.

Dean smirks and calls him a pussy.

Lucifer loves Sam's idea. Thousands of black spiders crawl out of Dean's ears and nostrils.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam leaves the note where Dean will see it. "Went for a run. Be back."

He stops for a second to double check his laces. He grins, because this is where Dean would say _OCD much?_

God, the sunrise is so beautiful. He can't remember the last time he felt this _good._

When he looks up, Dean is standing in the doorway, squinting at him like it's the middle of the night.

Then he looks out the window. And he feels like crying as he unties his shoes. Because of course. It _is_ the middle of the night.


	6. Chapter 6

_Time._

Sam sets down the assembled weapon and clicks the button on the stopwatch. He exhales with measured satisfaction, noting the improvement.

"Well done, son!" John says with an approving nod.

"Don't," Sam mutters, not even looking.

Lucifer pouts. "What, you're not even going to humor me? Who do you think taught you how to do that?"

Instead of answering, Sam resets the timer and ejects the magazine.

"You stupid little shit. I thought I told you to check the chamber!"

Sam looks up in time to see the bullet plunge into his father's forehead.


	7. Chapter 7

"Hush little Sammy, don't say a word…"

Sam squeezes his eyes shut and jerks his head to the side, into the pillow. _Please go away. Please not this. _

A soft hand brushes the hair away from his forehead. "Mama's here, Sammy. I'm never going to let anything hurt you. Not ever again. Open your eyes, sweetheart. Look at me."

He knows the moment he does she'll scream in pain and burst into flames. He wonders low long Lucifer will let him simply lie here with his eyes closed, drawing comfort from the soothing hand of the mother he never knew.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean sees blood. His brother. The knife. And blood.

He stops short at the door to the kitchen. "Sam. Whoa, Sam." Sam turns, not quite looking at him. "Sam, give me the knife."

Sam looks down at his arm. "It's not real, Dean." He laughs. _"Dean._ Okay. I get it. It's not real. I could cut my whole arm off and you'd just grow it right back, because _that's what happens."_

Dean takes a step toward him. "Shit. Sam, just—"

The hand holding the knife is shaking, white knuckled. "I-I can't... I can't..."

* * *

In a practiced move he's used a hundred times, Dean lunges forward, shoulder first, and closes his hand around Sam's wrist, finding the pressure points to make him loosen his grip on the knife.

The helpless sound Sam makes does something to the knot in Dean's stomach.

The knife clatters loudly the floor, and Sam goes oddly limp against Dean.

"Hey," Dean says, "We're gonna figure this out, Sam."

He puts his hands on Sam's shoulders.

"Sam?"

Sam cringes. He fucking _cringes_. "I'll be good, I won't— Just please... stop being Dean."


	9. Chapter 9

Sam seems to be having one of his more lucid days, Bobby notes, wiping engine grease from his hands onto an old rag.

"What's on your mind, son?"

"Hey Bobby." Sam shifts his weight. "I need to ask you a favor."

"Sure, kid. Name it."

Sam glances nervously behind Bobby's shoulder. "If I… If I'm not…" He takes breath. When he continues, his voice sounds all wrong, too quiet and choked. "Dean'll be okay, right?"

Bobby frowns. "Sam? Spit it out."

"I'm losing, Bobby. I-I think…it's a game… and I'm losing."


	10. Chapter 10

"You win," Sam hisses. "I can't… do this anymore. Please. Make it stop."

Lucifer is sitting cross-legged in front of Sam on the hood of an old Buick. "Make what stop?" he asks innocently.

Sam stops pacing and glares. Exasperated, he smacks his hand repeatedly against the side of his head. "This! All of it!"

"Oh, Sammy..." Lucifer slides off the hood of the car and hooks an arm companionably around Sam, whose chest is heaving with emotion.

"I already told you," he explains patiently. He takes two fingers and cocks them beneath his own jawbone, pointed toward his brain.


	11. Chapter 11

Sam slides a bullet into the gun, wondering if this is a trick too, or if waking up will be like stumbling out of a Djinn's dream back into the familiar Hell of the cage.

A familiar, calloused hand closes over his. He looks up into Dean's eyes, and in that moment Sam wants his brother so badly. He wants this all to be real, not Lucifer in a parody of his brother's skin.

Sam freezes and pulls his hand away from Lucifer's touch.

"Bobby was worried," Dean says, blinking away the hurt.

* * *

"If you're doing this, there better be two bullets in that gun."

"Dean…"

Dean takes Sam by the shoulder and shakes him. "You stupid son of a bitch! What do I have to do, Sam? How else can I make you hear me? I got you _out."_

Hell is digging into his mind like the ever-present point of a knife, an insanity crafted from year upon year of unending pain.

"It was impossible." Sam says miserably, echoing what Lucifer has been telling him.

Dean looks taken aback. "You're my _brother_, Sam. You really think I'd let that stop me?"


	12. Chapter 12

"Can you say it again?" Sam's fingers curl around Dean's wrists, and Dean is holding on too because lately that's all he does.

"Which part, Sam?"

"About being your brother," Sam whispers. "He never... got that quite right."

"You're my brother, Sammy." The lump in his throat surprises him. Because really, this? This simple thing is what slips past his defenses? He reaches a hand around the base of Sam's neck and squeezes the knot of muscle there, drawing his brother's head closer to his.

Something seems to give inside Sam. "Oh, god, Dean."


	13. Chapter 13

Sam isn't expecting to be shoved face-first into the wall or pinned from behind.

It's Dean's knee pressing between his legs, digging painfully into his thigh. Dean's hand tearing at the fly of his jeans.

_Wrong, wrong, wrong. _

There's a moment of panic, realizing that years of roughhousing have taught Dean how to flawlessly immobilize him. Then there's a moment of clarity.

"Say it," Sam gasps.

"You don't get to give the orders."

_"Say it_, or this isn't happening."

"Will that make it better for you? Fine. You're my brother, Sam."

Sam smirks. "Nice try."


	14. Chapter 14

Lucifer stares at his hands (Dean's hands) on Bobby's table. "I'm not going to say it."

"Then you're full of shit." Sam calmly turns his back and pulls a beer out of the fridge.

"What, no beer for your own brother?"

Sam ignores him.

Lucifer sighs. "It wasn't like this in the cage, you know."

Sam's hand tightens on the bottle and an overpowering joy spreads through his chest, because _past tense,_ _he just fucking admitted it's over_.

Sam brings the beer to his lips and finds that he can't stop smiling.

* * *

_END._


End file.
